


The Wanton Song

by bryndenn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam Winchester, Clueless Dean Winchester, First Time, Incest, M/M, Moody Teen Sammy, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 02:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19286203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryndenn/pseuds/bryndenn
Summary: After wanting his brother for as long as he can remember, Sam finally makes his move on his eighteenth birthday.





	The Wanton Song

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Sam is underage in the first two sections, but nothing happens until after he's 18.

1997

It was a crisp fall afternoon and the house that they’d rented was only a few blocks away. The sky was clear blue and the leaves had just begun to change. Dean was always cheered when they spent the fall in the northeast and he got to watch the leaves turn. He’d gotten in trouble in school, but it had been entirely worth it. All was right with the world except for the sullen 14-year-old walking beside him.

“Don’t mention this to Dad, huh?” Dean said casually.

Sam glared at his brother. “Don’t you think he’d be _proud_ of you, Dean?”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. With the mood Sam was in, it would only piss him off more. “Aw, c’mon, Sammy,” Dean said, ruffling his brother’s hair. “Don’t be sore. I’ll tell you all about it.”

The look that Sam gave him could have frozen a lake in the middle of July. “Gross,” he spat. “I don’t wanna know what some dumb girl let you do.”

“She seemed pretty smart to me,” Dean said, fully aware that he was pushing his luck. “And she was super good with her—”

“Stop it!” Sam yelled. “God, Dean, you’re so disgusting.”

Dean cast a sidelong glance at Sam. He’d figured that Sammy was about the right age to start getting interesting in girls—hell, he was a bit of a late bloomer by Dean’s standards. But every time Dean tried to talk to Sam about it, Sam got quiet. Angry. Didn’t want to hear it.

_Maybe he’s gay?_

The thought hadn’t occurred to Dean before, and he surreptitiously watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. Nothing in Sam made him think he might be gay, but Dean was worldly enough to know that you couldn’t always tell by looking, and open-minded enough not to really care who Sam wanted to kiss. Suddenly it seemed important that Sammy know that, gay or not.

“Isn’t there anyone you like, dude?” Dean asked, keeping his eyes forward. “A girl in your class? Or a boy?”

Sam’s head had whipped around towards Dean, a sneer on his lips. “I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re asking. Quit being so immature.”

They’d reached the house they were renting. Sam stomped up the stairs so hard that the entire weather-beaten porch shook, slammed the door open, and went immediately to his room where he remained for the rest of the night.

Dean had been a little shit at fourteen, he knew it, but not like this. His evening was spent flipping through TV channels without actually watching anything, and wondering how long it would be before Sam grew out of this phase.

 

1999

Dean had been very lucky, and it had resulted in him getting very lucky. Dad had left the Impala and caught a ride with some other hunter, so Dean had that sleek black beauty all to himself. And he’d caught the eye of a girl at the local bar who was in the absolute bloom of what was likely to be an unfortunately short period of beauty. But all Dean was worried about was later that night, and the girl had more than delivered, riding him cowgirl in the back of the Impala until they were both covered in sweat and sated.

After dropping her off with a kiss and a disingenuous promise to call, Dean returned back to their motel room. They hadn’t been able to afford a motel with air conditioning, and had additionally had the bad luck of getting a room with only one double bed. Sam had gone into paroxysms of disgust at the idea of sharing a bed, but Dean insisted. He wasn’t going to have Sammy sleeping on the floor, and he didn’t intend to, either. Double bed meant two people, and Sam was just going to have to learn to live with it.

Dean could hear the TV from outside the room. He’d instructed Sam not to wait up, so Sam probably didn’t even expect him back. It was early enough that they could still order a pizza with the proceeds from Dean’s latest pool hustle, maybe watch a late-night monster movie. It might even put Sam in a slightly better mood than his normal, sneering disdain.

Dean keyed into the room, swung the door open, and stopped. Sam was laying on the bed wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and Dean’s rattiest Zep t-shirt, the one with a rip in the collar so it fell down on one shoulder. His coltish legs were sprawled on the bed, one arm behind his head against the headboard and one hand on his stomach, mindlessly pinching and letting go of the shirt fabric. Sam had sprung up almost a foot over the past year, standing only an inch or so shorter than Dean, and it had made him awkward but beautiful. Sam wasn’t at all aware of the second because he was so focused on the first.

It felt as if someone had punched Dean right in the chest, his lungs emptied themselves so quickly. Sam looked so gorgeous laying there, even in spite of the scowl on his face.

 _That kid’s going to make someone super lucky_ , Dean thought out of nowhere. Maybe he should ask Tammy if she had a sister who was the right age; certainly, at sixteen, Sam had to be past thinking girls were gross, and having some fun while they were in town might improve his mood.

“Heya, Sammy,” he said.

Sam jumped and shot a look at Dean that was almost guilty, before jumping out of bed.

“Jesus, Dean, don’t sneak up on a guy!” Sam said. “Why are you even home?”

“Didn’t think I was sneaking,” Dean said evenly. “Got everything taken care of early, so I thought we could watch a movie.”

“’Taken care of?’ Is that what you’re calling it now?” Sam sneered.

“C’mon, Sammy, don’t be a bitch. We can order a pizza.”

Sam’s eyes widened just a bit at the mention of pizza; with his growth spurt, it seemed like the kid was literally always starving, and they’d been living on pasta, beans, and rice. “Fine. Jerk,” he muttered. “I want olives.”

As far as Dean was concerned, picking olives off his pizza was a small price to pay for Sam’s happiness. “Fine, but I want banana peppers.” He didn’t, especially, but he understood the importance of requiring equal terms in any sibling negotiation.

“Gross,” Sam said, but it was perfunctory, just a part of the dance.

Dean put Sam in charge of finding a movie while he called the pizza in.

“What’d you find?” Dean asked, flinging himself on the bed next to Sam. “Aw, Dr. No! Awesome! And we didn’t miss Ursula Andress’s first scene!”

He could actually feel Sam roll his eyes, which did nothing but delight him.

“Even you have to admit that she was hot,” Dean said, elbowing Sam in the ribs.

“You’re disgusting, Dean,” Sam said, making every effort to sound mature.

“Sean Connery do it for you, then? I’m man enough to admit that he’s a prime specimen in this movie.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not gay?”

Dean was silent for a minute, watching the movie. “Wouldn’t be a problem if you were,” he finally said quietly. “Just so you know.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, because I’m _not_.”

“Ok, Sammy,” Dean said. He occasionally knew when to let an issue drop, and this felt like one of those times.

They sat in silence and watched the movie until the pizza arrived. Dean tossed the box in the middle of the bed and they dug in. He was gratified to see how much Sam enjoyed the pizza; it wasn’t often he got to treat his little brother, and Sam deserved a way better life than they had.

When Sam fell asleep later with his head on Dean’s shoulder, Dean couldn’t help but feel like everything was right in the world. He eased Sam down onto the bed, watching his eyelids flutter and his lips move, like he was talking in his dream.

In that moment, all Dean could feel was overwhelming love for his brother. He’d do whatever it took to keep Sam safe. Always.

 

May 3, 2001

“Well, Sammy, was it everything you always dreamed it would be?” Dean asked, taking a swig of Jack Daniels straight out of the bottle.

Sam, newly eighteen, was partying not quite so hard with a bottle of Heineken. He laughed. “I’d say it more than lived up to the complete lack of expectations I had.”

“But seriously,” Dean said, setting the bottle down and catching Sam’s eye. “I know Dad wanted to be here.”

“Obviously didn’t want to badly enough to make it,” Sam said. “It’s all good. Thanks for the beer and the cake. They’re two great tastes that don’t taste great together, but I appreciate it anyway.”

“Can’t turn eighteen sober, Sammy,” Dean said. “I don’t make the rules.”

Dean, himself, was feeling the warm glow of a buzz that he didn’t have because he was trying to forget something. Drunkenness was rarely celebratory for Dean; instead, it was typically a much-needed coping mechanism. It felt nice to shoot the shit with Sammy instead of getting blitzed as quickly as possible. “Sure you don’t want a slug of high-test?”

“No,” Sam said, shaking his head so hard that his hair flopped over his eyes.

Dad would probably make Sam cut it soon, Dean realized, and that thought made him sad in a way he didn’t quite understand.

“I’d rather not wake up dealing with the same hangover as you tomorrow,” Sam continued, his dimples showing as he grinned.

“I’m deeply offended,” Dean said. “Takes a lot more than a few sips of Jack to give me a hangover.”

“‘A few sips’—is that what we’re calling it?” Sam said with a skeptical glance at the bottle.

“Oh, shush and drink your pretentious import beer,” Dean said.

Sam was quiet for a minute, just staring steadily at Dean until Dean began to squirm under his gaze.

“What, Sammy?” he finally asked.

“I want one more present from you,” Sam said.

“Damn, Sam, you’re demanding toni—”

Dean’s words were cut off as Sam reached across the table, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and hauled him into a kiss. Dean gasped and Sam took the opportunity, greedily thrusting his tongue into Dean’s mouth. Dean knew that he should be horrified, but he felt his cock begin to stiffen the moment his lips touched Sam’s.

It had to just be a reaction to the stimulation. His dick didn’t understand what was going on, and for once, it was going to have to listen to his brain. _It’s Sammy._

Sam broke the kiss and let go of Dean’s neck, his eyes immediately snapping to Dean’s to try and read them.

“Jesus, Sammy, how many of those beers did you have?” Dean asked weakly. “Enough that I started looking like a hot chick?”

Sam shook his head. “This is my second, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the alcohol. It’s my birthday, and all I wanted was to kiss you, just once.”

“This is wrong, Sam.”

“I don’t care, Dean! Everything we do is wrong. Normal people don’t live out of cars on stolen credit cards. Normal people don’t have arsenals in their trunk, or know how to kill rugarus. We’re not normal, and we never will be. So why should we deny ourselves?”

All Dean could manage was a weak shake of his head; he didn’t have a rational answer for Sam.

“Tell me that you don’t want me and we’ll pretend that this never happened. I swear. No hard feelings. But you look me in the face and you tell me that this isn’t something that you want.”

Dean took a deep breath, preparing to lie to his brother, but the words just wouldn’t form. “Sammy, I can’t do this to you.”

“I’m eighteen now, Dean. I can make my own decisions. Tell me.”

Dean gulped another breath, and after a moment he replied, “I can’t.”

“Can’t do this, or can’t honestly tell me that you don’t want me?”

“Both.”

“You’re all I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember, Dean. It’s always been you. It will always be you.”

“Thought you weren’t gay, Sammy.”

“I’m not, Dean, I keep telling you. I’m whatever you want me to be. Forever.”

Dean was on his feet before he consciously knew he was moving. Sam mirrored his movements, and suddenly they were inches from one another. Sam put his hands on either side of Dean’s faced and pulled him in for another searing kiss. Dean felt a bit manhandled by his younger (but taller) brother, and was surprised to find that it turned him on. He stepped in closer to Sam, their hard cocks brushing against one another.

Sam took his time exploring Dean’s mouth, and Dean returned the favor. Sam tasted like beer and just a little frosting, and it was the most intoxicating thing Dean had ever tasted. He had no idea how long they stood there, Sam’s hands on his face and his hands in Sam’s hair, just kissing back and forth. It felt like an eternity and a single second all at the same time.

“Take your clothes off for me?” Sam asked, tugging on Dean’s shirt. Dean nodded and complied, shucking off his t-shirt and letting his jeans drop. Sam’s hands were all over Dean’s newly exposed skin, as if he was trying to touch him everywhere at once. Dean groaned as Sam sucked hard on his neck and pinched a nipple at the same time. Finally, Sam cupped Dean’s ass with one of his giant hands and pulled Dean towards him, the friction between their cocks driving Dean nearly insane.

“You now,” Dean said, his voice rough with want. Sam quickly divested himself of his clothing until both of them were wearing nothing but their boxers. Dean ran his hands over Sam’s chest and stomach, marveling at the fact that his baby softness had given way to hard muscle. There was no denying that Sam was a man in more ways than one.

Sam dropped to his knees and pulled Dean’s boxers down almost as one movement. Dean couldn’t remember if his cock had ever been so hard, and Sam looked at it like it was a buffet and he was starving. Dean expected Sam to touch him, maybe try some tentative strokes, but Sam had other ideas. He took Dean in his mouth and Dean felt the muscles of Sam’s throat contract. Sam gagged but didn’t drop Dean’s cock from his mouth. Dean was still trying to recover from the amazingly intense sensation of Sam’s throat, but he managed to check to make sure Sam was ok.

“Just got a little excited,” Sam said around Dean’s cock. He wrapped his right hand around the base and licked the head like it was a popsicle. His technique was non-existent, but his enthusiasm more than made up for it.

“Jesus Christ, Sammy,” Dean groaned, his hand tangling in Sam’s hair. He had to be careful not to force Sam, and it was taking every inch of willpower he had not to thrust into Sam’s warm, willing mouth. When Sam began to moan around him, Dean felt his knees weaken.

“I need to lay down,” he said.

“Get your strength back,” Sam said. “I want you to fuck me tonight.”

Dean stumbled back and sat down hard on the edge of his bed. “No, Sam. I can’t do that. You’re not ready.”

“You don’t know what I’m ready for,” Sam said, sliding his boxers down. His cock was impressive—possibly bigger than Dean’s—and Dean could see that the tip was already weeping precome. Sam crawled on the bed and turned so Dean could see his back—and the silver plug that was firmly in his ass.

“Oh, Sammy,” Dean said, and he felt himself stiffen even more. “You got yourself ready for me.”

“Can I have my present, De? Please?” Sam asked, looking over his shoulder and biting his bottom lip.

And how was Dean supposed to say no to that? He knee-walked until he was behind Sam and looking down at the base of the plug. “How long have you been wearing it?” he asked.

“Since I showered this morning,” Sam admitted, and Dean groaned at the idea that Sam had been walking around all day prepping himself, thinking of how he wanted Dean to fuck him later.

“Oh, baby boy. You’re spoiling me and it’s not even _my_ birthday.”

“There’s lube in the nightstand,” Sam said in response. “Get slicked up and give me my present.”

Dean didn’t need any more convincing. He got the lube and returned to the bed. Then, he began to slowly work the plug out of Sam. Sam’s ass seemed determined to suck the plug back in, and Dean stifled another groan thinking of how those hungry muscles would feel on his cock.

“Need you,” Sam ground out.

“Relax,” Dean said, and pulled the plug all the way out. Beneath him, Sam’s hole gaped open, lubed and perfectly prepped for him. “Fuck, Sammy.”

Dean quickly lubed his cock up and pressed against Sam’s ass. “You don’t have to be gentle with me,” Sam breathed. “I’ve fucked myself with my fingers. Always pretended it was you.”

At that visual, Dean pushed in a little faster than he’d planned, feeling Sam’s muscles give way. “You ok, baby?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Sam said. “Give me more.”

Dean did, sliding slowly until he was flush against Sam’s ass.

“God, Dean, you feel so amazing,” Sam said breathlessly. “So much better than my fingers.”

“You think that’s good, wait until you feel this,” Dean said in a low voice, slowly pulling out and sliding back in again.

Sam moaned and said, “More. Faster.”

Dean gave him what he wanted until he was pounding hard into Sam’s ass. Sam was making beautiful little punched-out noises beneath him, mixed with moans and whispered encouragements.

Dean realized that there was no way he was going to last. He’d be damned if he was the first one to come, though. He reached around, found Sam’s cock, and began stroking it. Sam was definitely girthier than Dean.

“Fuck, Dean, yeah!” Sam cried out, and a moment later Dean felt the convulsions, both on his hand and against his cock, as Sam came. It was enough to drive him over the edge as well, and he shot his load deep in his brother’s ass.

And in that moment, Dean Winchester knew two things without a doubt: one, that his soul was damned, and two, that he didn’t care in the slightest.


End file.
